


I held your hand and I felt complete

by philindas



Category: Upstairs Downstairs
Genre: F/F, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blanche learns her ex-lover will be at a wedding she's attending, she panics, not wanting to go alone. Agnes offers to go with her and play the part of her wife, and Blanche agrees, somewhat warily. Can she keep her feelings to herself when Agnes is holding her hand like she was born to do it? Modern!AU, mainly Blanche/Agnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I banished every memory you and I had ever made

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from tumblr. Story title from 'From Now On' by The Features, chapter title from 'It's All Coming Back to Me Now' by Celine Dion.

Blanche Mottershead stared at the invitation in her hands, eyes glued to the curly scrawl that had been added to the bottom of it in her friend's handwriting.

_I'm sorry this is so late- we lost your new address! We so look forward to seeing you this weekend; Portia will be there as well- it will be wonderful to see you both again!_

She knew her friend Amelia had meant well, but it had been years since she'd seen Portia in person- not since she'd left her, and Portia had stayed with the man who was now her husband. Portia had written letters, but Blanche hadn't read any of them- she'd burned them. It hurt too much to think about the woman she'd given her heart to, and had it broken by.

She'd been much more careful with her love since then; so far, no one had made the cut. She'd tried dating sites, she'd tried blind dates set up by friends, she'd tried one-night stands. Nothing had worked.

Now, her nephew's wife was living with her; Hallam had cheated on the poor girl with her own sister, and she'd had nowhere to go- she'd given up everything to marry him, and now she was left with no university degree and two young children. Blanche had taken her in immediately- it made her small home brighter, and much less lonely than it had been previously. Hector and Veronica were precious; aged at three and just under a year, they were too young to understand what exactly their father had done, but enjoyed this 'vacation' to their great-aunt's house.

Agnes had already told her she had no intention of going back to Hallam- she was filing for divorce and full custody, along with applying to a local university to study teaching. Blanche was willing to do whatever Agnes needed her to- her job at a local museum as their archeological resource was flexible and paid well, so she could watch the children and help out financially wherever possible.

She didn't tell Agnes it was because she couldn't bear to see the younger woman leave; she'd become so intergrated into her life, she couldn't imagine it without the sound of Hector's footsteps running down the halls or Veronica's giggles from her playpen. She couldn't imagine not seeing Agnes' face across the breakfast table or seated beside her on the couch.

She told herself it wasn't because she'd allowed herself to fall for the one woman she could never have.

She looked at the invitation again, heart sinking. As much as she wanted to go see her friend get married to the man of her dreams, she couldn't face Portia- at least not alone. Seeing the beautiful redhead on the arm of her husband, smiling up at him, kissing him- it would be too much. She'd have to decline going, as much as it pained her.

"Blanche?"

She jumped at the voice that came from behind her, hand to her chest as she whirled around to face Agnes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the younger woman said, placing a hand on Blanche's arm as she squeezed gently and smiled at her. "I was just wondering if you wanted a cup of tea; I just put the kettle on."

"Thank you dear, I would," Blanche said, re-folding the invitation and sliding it back into the envelope, placing it on her desk.

"What's that?" Agnes asked curiously, tilting her head, dark curls tumbling down her shoulders as she looked at Blanche.

"A wedding invitation," Blanche answered tiredly, following the younger woman out of the study and into the kitchen, settling behind the counter and watching as Agnes grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and set them down.

"Oh that's exciting! I do love weddings," Agnes replied, flashing Blanche a smile as she moved easily around the kitchen. The older woman tried not to let it get to her how natural it felt to watch the dark haired woman reach into cupboards and grab things out like she owned the place.

"Well, you can go in my place then- _I_ won't be setting foot at this wedding," Blanche replied with a quiet snort, fingers drumming against the counter as Agnes poured out the hot water when the kettle whistled.

"Oh? Not a fan of the bride?" Agnes asked, mixing her tea just the way Blanche liked it- setting off another pang in her chest.

"No, no, I love Amy," Blanche said, taking the tea with a grateful smile, fingers brushing against Agnes' and sending her stomach into warm flutters. "Not a particular fan of one of the guests whom I know will be going. It's been a very long time since I've seen her."

"Anyone I'd know?" Agnes asked, eyebrow arching teasingly as she sipped her tea, resting her elbows on the counter as she face Blanche, their noses a few inches apart.

"By name, possibly," Blanche replied, eyes flicking down to her tea as she sighed. "Portia Alresford. She writes under the penname Fielding, her maiden name."

"Author of 'The Golden Blaze'?" Agnes asked, eyes widening in interest. Blanche nodded, teeth tugging on her bottom lip. "More than a friend, a take it."

"Much more," Blanche replied softly, thumb brushing over the rim of her mug. Agnes' fingers curled around Blanche's wrist comfortingly, squeezing gently as she looked at her with large, soft eyes.

"I'm sorry she hurt you, however she did," Agnes replied, kindness and compassion reflecting in her eyes. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want to talk I'm willing to listen. Is that why you don't want to go to the wedding?"

"I'd rather not be faced with the sight of she and her husband acting the picture of a loving couple while I stand off to the side and drink heavily," Blanche replied, turning her hand over to lace her fingers with Agnes', squeezing gratefully. Agnes studied her for a moment and Blanche worried she'd been holding her hand for too long when the brunette placed her mug down, expression determined.

"I'll go with you," Agnes said, and Blanche opened her mouth to protest when she held up her free hand. "No buts about it. Let's go RSVP and pack, wife for the weekend."

Blanche's mouth hung open, astonishment clear in her features.

"I'm sorry- _what_?" she asked, pulling her hand away from Agnes' as the other woman rounded the counter and settled in the chair beside her.

"You don't want to go alone, but you want to see your friend get married, correct?" Agnes asked, and Blanche nodded, mouth open to interrupt when Agnes cut her off again. "So go with me. I can easily find someone to watch the children for the weekend, we can buy train tickets and be there tomorrow afternoon in time for the rehersal dinner, and we can be home by Sunday so I can get to class on Monday."

Blanche stared at her, eyes searching the younger woman's face. Agnes looked back eagerly, not a hint of hesitation in her face as Blanche worried her bottom lip, trying to understand _why_.

"But why, Agnes? I don't understand why you'd do this for me," Blanche said, and Agnes slid her hand over Blanche's, squeezing gently.

"You've done so much for the children and I these past months- if I can do this for a weekend, I want to. And you deserve to see someone you care about get married," Agnes replied, and Blanche swallowed, glancing down at her lap briefly.

"Only if you're sure-"

"Of course I'm sure," Agnes said, cutting her off with an affectionate nudge of her shoulder. "Come on- we have to RSVP and pack!"

_*

After Blanche called Amy and told her would be bringing a plus one, her friend squealed excitedly, demanding details before being pulled away from the phone, groaning. After promising they'd catch up when they saw each other, she hung up, trying to sort through _what_ exactly had happened over the past hour.

She gave after a few minutes, too confused to figure anything out, wandering down the hall to Agnes' room, finding her rummaging through her closet, coming away with a jumper and a skirt, a dark red evening gown spread out on the bed beside the suitcase.

“Agnes, you really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t _have_ to, Blanche- I _want_ to,” Agnes said, cutting her off and placing the clothing in the case that was spread out on the bed. “It’s only for a weekend. What, can’t stand the thought of being married to me?”

Blanche bit her lip, not replying as the younger woman tossed a pair of jeans on top and then shut the case, zipping it efficiently. Agnes turned to her, lips curved up in a smile, though when she saw the older woman's expression she sighed, dropping her hands from her hips and closing the distance between to where Blanche was leaning against the wall.

Effectively pinned between the wall and Agnes’ thin, warm body, Blanche was pleasantly trapped; Agnes smelled like cinnamon shampoo, and Blanche felt warmth travel up her spine at the scent and the feel of another woman's body against hers. She was opening her mouth to protest when she felt the warm press of lips against hers; her breathing stuttered as she faltered, hands gripping Agnes’ waist unsurely, eyes closed and heart hammering.

The kiss broke after a moment and Blanche could still taste Agnes on her tongue; swallowing, she looked at Agnes with wide eyes.

“Married couples generally kiss, don’t they?” Agnes asked, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, one eyebrow quirked upwards in amusement. Blanche swallowed, hands still on Agnes' hips, warmth pooling in her abdomen at the flush of the other woman's cheeks and the sight of her smudged lipstick.

They said nothing as Agnes stepped away, and Blanche closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the wall as she worked to control herself. It had been one thing resisting her feelings towards Agnes before; now, she knew what it felt like to have her lips against hers, what she tasted like, what it felt like to have her hands on her.

She had no idea how she was going to survive this weekend without losing her mind.

_*

The next day, they were all packed and settled; Agnes had dug out her ring and Blanche had slid a ring she'd bought for Portia but never given her years ago onto the brunette's finger as well before slipping on a simple gold band she'd found in her jewlery box on; seeing the two rings on Agnes' finger and knowing they were what 'bound' them together made her shiver.

"You know it's not too late to back out, Agnes," Blanche said quietly, even as they settled into their seats on the train. Agnes looked at her with clear, excited eyes, lips curled into a smile.

"Oh, my dear Blanche- is it really so bad to be tied down to me for a few days?" Agnes asked, and Blanche lowered her eyes, cheeks flushing as Agnes' twined their fingers, her rings sorching her skin where they touched. "Besides- it's been years since I've been able to go to a wedding; this weekend is going to be so exciting Blanche, you'll see!"

Exciting wasn't _quite_ the word Blanche would use, but she settled back into her seat regardless, sighing softly as she closed her eyes. She was just on the brink of sleep when she realized Agnes was still holding her hand, fingers interlocked and her nails brushing lightly over the back of her hand, tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin as she hummed under her breath. She fell asleep to the tune of 'Over the Rainbow' and the feel of Agnes' soft hand pressed against hers.


	2. There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting as she waits on Amy’s doorstep, Agnes tilting her head up to look at the house in awe, dark curls spilling down her back and around her shoulders. The sunlight glowed around her and Blanche looked away, clearing her throat as the door opened. A head of red hair and a thick Scottish accent attacked her, arms around her neck, squealing excitedly.

“It’s been ages, Blanche!” Amy Pond cried, pulling back to grin, eyes lit up. She caught sight of Agnes and her eyes widened, looking at Blanche for a moment before looking at Agnes again, loosening her arms from around Blanche’s neck. “And who is this, may I ask?”

“Amy, this is Agnes. My…wife,” Blanche said, and the words in her mouth felt natural, despite her hesitation. Amy’s mouth dropped open, head flicking between the two of them before she squealed again in excitement, throwing her arms around Agnes, catching the brunette off guard as she was caught in a tight hug. She was released just as quickly, and Amy turned to Blanche, hands on her hips.

“Clearly, we have lots to catch up on,” she said, looking at her meaningfully, and Blanche swallowed, nodding. She exchanged a look with an amused Agnes before following Amy inside, watching the redhead bounce ahead of them. “I’m so glad you were able to come this weekend! Your room is at the top of the stairs, to the right- Portia and her husband are right across the hall from you! We planned such a small wedding, it seemed silly to send everyone to a hotel when we have so many guest rooms.”

Blanche stiffened at the mention of Portia and Agnes placed a hand on her arm, squeezing gently; Amy noticed, grinning as she nudged Blanche’s hip with her own.

“God you two are precious. It’s about time someone made an honest woman of Blanche!” Amy said, exchanging a smirk with Agnes, causing Blanche to roll her eyes.

“Please Amy- between the two of us, you’re the one who needs to be made an honest woman,” Blanche replied, raising an eyebrow at her younger friend. “Does Rory know what he’s getting himself into?”

“Oi, I am a dream!” Amy replied hotly, and Blanche shook her head, pressing a fond kiss to the redhead’s cheek.

“Oh yes, of course dear,” she said, and Amy rolled her eyes, pushing her shoulder lightly towards the stairs.

“Go get situated; Mum is making tea and we can catch up before everyone else gets here!”

With that, the redhead took off towards the kitchen, and Blanche looked at Agnes. The brunette was looking at her with wide eyes, blinking.

“She’s certainly a firecracker,” Agnes said, and Blanche laughed, smiling after Amy fondly.

“She’s Scottish- don’t hold it against her,” Blanche said, picking up her bag and starting up the stairs, Agnes trailing behind her. The room was near the stairs, and spacious enough; the bed is smaller than she’d hoped, and she swallowed, trying not to think about Agnes being pressed up against her as they slept.

“How do you know her?” Agnes asked as they each began to unpack. Blanche’s lips curled up in the corners, brushing some of her hair back behind her ear.

“She used to volunteer at the museum; I sort of took her under my wing, and wrote her letter of recommendation when she went to school. Introduced her to the man she’s marrying, too,” Blanche replied, a fond smile on her face. “She’s a bright girl, that one.”

Agnes didn’t reply and Blanche turned her head to look at her, caught off-guard by the fond look the younger woman was giving her. Warmth stole into her chest, and she struggled to breathe regularly as she turned back to her suitcase.

“We’d best head back down; Amy’s not known for being patient,” Blanche said, clearing her throat and turning back to Agnes with a forced smile that thankfully the brunette didn’t seem to notice.

“Lead the way,” she replied, and as they exited the room her fingers slid into Blanche’s, warm and soft and unexpected. Trying to remind herself that this would be happening throughout the weekend, she startled slightly when Agnes squeezed her hand, offering her a soft smile.

It would certainly be nice to have someone to hold her hand again, at least for a little while.

_*

Tea with Amy and her mum was never a dull affair; the redhead was constantly asking questions, and Blanche barely had time to breathe between answers. Amy latched onto Agnes immediately, asking all kinds of embarrassing questions about Blanche- and it caught her by surprise how little the brunette had to lie.

She filed that away for later.

“So tell me the story of how you met!” Amy said, leaning over the table and resting her head in her hands, looking between the two of them eagerly. Blanche looked at Agnes, who sat forward before she could say a word.

“Well, I was previously married to her nephew,” Agnes said, and Blanche watched as Amy’s eyes widened. “And when he cheated on me with my sister, Blanche was there to pick up the pieces. The children and I have been staying there for the past year.”

“How long have you been married?” Amy asked, fingers curled around her teacup, thumbs brushing against her mouth as she lifted it.

“Not long,” Blanche and Agnes replied in unison, sharing a half-smile as Blanche allowed Agnes to continue. “We’ve kept it quiet.”

“ _I’ll_ say,” Amy said, shooting Blanche a pointed look; the older woman merely rolled her eyes. “You said you had children?”

“Yes; Hector is three and Veronica is just about a year,” Agnes said, lips curling into a smile as she slid her fingers between Blanche’s again. “Blanche has been wonderful with them.”

Blanche felt herself blush, rolling her eyes to stop the embarrassment from turning her face too red.

“I only do what I can,” she insisted, and Agnes leaned over, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek, squeezing her hand. Blanche swallowed, eyes meeting Agnes’s as the younger woman pulled back, noses mere inches apart; Blanche licked her suddenly-dry lips, heart speeding up in her chest.

Amy made an adoring noise from across the table and Blanche dropped her gaze, turning away from Agnes and clearing her throat.

“You two are adorable,” Amy said, grinning at them before being distracted by a knock on the door. “I bet that’s Portia!”

Blanche stiffened and Agnes’s hand was immediately on her arm; Blanche turned towards her, swallowing.

“I’d really rather not see her right now,” she whispered, and Agnes nodded, standing and pulling Blanche with her.

“There’s a back staircase I saw earlier; let’s use that one,” the brunette said, fingers wrapping around hers tightly, leading her out of the room and back upstairs. Once they were back in their room Blanche collapsed onto the bed, closing her eyes and placing her hands over her face, sighing. She felt the bed dip as Agnes sat beside her, and she opened her eyes to find her leaning against the footboard, legs tucked underneath herself as she watched Blanche with concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry for dragging you away I just-“

“You don’t have to apologize, Blanche,” Agnes said, a fond smile on her face as she shook her head, tucking some hair behind her ear as she nudged Blanche’s thigh with her foot. “You do know you can’t avoid her the entire weekend though, right?”

“Yes I do know that, thank you,” Blanche said, tone half-annoyed, but she sighed, conceding. “I’d just rather…put it off as long as possible.”

Agnes nodded, chin resting on her knee as she looked at Blanche, one finger twirling a blonde ringlet around it. Blanche let her eyes slip closed again and sighed, content to just lie in the comfortable silence for a little while.

She was close to drifting off when she felt the gentle pressure of lips against her forehead, and she stirred, sighing quietly as she heard Agnes murmuring quietly, telling her to go back to sleep; there was some shifting about and then a warm body was pressed against her back. She was warm and comfortable and too tired to try to figure out what was going on, so she pressed sleepily back into the body and let herself drift, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon shampoo and tea.


	3. in my memory they're still burning, fingerprints you left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Turn Your Face by Little Mix. Also I'm sorry I am such a tease with the end of this chapter but I promise the next update won't take me so long next time!

Blanche awoke to rose-scented steam and the gentle pressure of fingers against her cheek; she blinked her eyes open sleepily, arching her back as she yawned, turning her head to find Agnes looking at her in the same fond way she had been earlier, dressed in her bathrobe and hair damp.

“Hello sleepyhead,” she said, lips curling into a smile as she settled on the bed near Blanche’s hip. “Dinner is in an hour; I didn’t know if you wanted to shower or not, so I didn’t wake you when I took one.”

“I think I will, just to wake up some more,” Blanche replied, voice still low and rough with sleep, and she could have sworn she saw the younger woman give a small shiver at the sound. Pushing the thought away, she sat up slightly, stretching her arms upward and craning her neck to get rid of the crick from sleeping on it. “I can’t believe I slept for so long; must be a sign I’m getting older.”

“Oh hush Blanche, you’re hardly considered old,” Agnes said, shaking her head and causing a few drops of water to fall from her hair onto Blanche’s skin. Standing, she adjusted her robe and headed back into the bathroom, turning on the hair dryer and beginning to dry her hair.

Blanche watched for a few minutes, transfixed. When she realized she’d been staring she flushed, tilting her head back towards her lap and trying to diffuse the heat that had settled in the pit of her abdomen, swallowing heavily.

Getting off of the bed, she gathered her things to shower and waited somewhat awkwardly for Agnes to be finished before taking the bathroom and starting the shower, the sound of the pounding water almost soothing.

When she stepped into the spray, the water almost scorched her skin, but she relished the burn; it reminded her where she was and helped her refocus. All that refocus was destroyed when she caught sight of Agnes’ shampoo resting on the ledge and she opened the bottle, inhaling the scent and closing her eyes. In an instant, all the heat she’d tried to box away earlier came back full force, and so with guilt washing over her skin with the water, she dropped a hand between her slick thighs and brought herself to a quick, wet, and rather unfulfilling orgasm.

She turned off the water and grabbed a towel, drying off and dealing with her hair, for once allowing the curls to fall loose and natural around her shoulders, unlike her usual coiled ringlets that barely brushed her shoulders. She returned to the bedroom to find Agnes dressed in the red dress she’d packed; it was tight at her hips with a flare around her knees, and it bared her shoulders. Her hair was half pulled back into a clip, ringlets falling around her shoulders.

She looked radiant, and Blanche’s breath caught in her throat.

“Agnes you look stunning,” she said, her voice awed as the younger woman turned fully towards her, skirt swishing around her legs. Agnes blushed, fiddling with her dress.

“I haven’t had an excuse to dress up in ages- you don’t think it’s too much?” she asked, looking self-conscious, and Blanche rushed to reassure her.

“Not at all- it’s a beautiful dress, especially on you,” she replied, giving Agnes a smile, which the brunette returned. “I’m going to look quite plain next to you.”

“Oh Blanche, no never,” Agnes said, coming to her side and grasping her forearm, shaking her head and looking up at her with wide, dark-rimmed eyes. “You’re beautiful- I wish you would see that.”

Blanche shook her head again, grabbing her own dark green dress and disappearing back into the bathroom, slipping into the dress and fixing her make-up, staring in the mirror and trying not to frown at the reflection. There wasn’t much she could do about the circles under her eyes or the lines by her mouth, and it was like an emphasis on the age different between her and the young woman in the next room.

Pushing the thoughts away, she sighed and exited the bathroom, sliding into a pair of shoes and raising her gaze to meet Agnes’, who was looking at her in such an achingly fond way Blanche had to look away, grabbing a purse and sliding a clip into her hair.

“Ready?” she asked, though it was mostly rhetorical; she doubted either of them were truly ready to sit through the rehearsal dinner and the inevitable meeting with Portia.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Agnes replied, holding a hand out towards Blanche. It hung there for a second before the blonde slid her fingers between them, and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

_*

Portia was just as beautiful as Blanche remembered; dark auburn hair, pale porcelain skin, and sharp emerald eyes that could pierce right through her. She was on the arm of her husband and dressed in a black dress that contrasted sharply with her coloring, and Blanche instinctively clutched Agnes’ hand tighter at the sight of her. The brunette looked at her in concern, following her gaze and squeezing her fingers gently in return.

“I need alcohol,” Blanche said, and Agnes let out a soft giggle before guiding her towards the bar where they settled on two stools. After ordering their drinks Blanche settled back in her seat to people watch while Agnes’ hand dropped to rest on her knee, the pressure barely registering.

They were talking quietly, Blanche pointing out different people she knew to Agnes when an aching familiar perfume wafted over her and she stiffened, mouth close to Agnes’ ear.

“How long has it been- two years? Three?” Portia asked, every ounce of poise and sophistication and beauty that Blanche remembered. “You look well.”

“I believe it’s been four, and thank you- so do you,” Blanche replied, aware of Agnes’ fingers tracing soothing patterns just above her knee, and of Portia’s gaze on them. “Portia, this is my wife, Agnes. Agnes, Portia Alresford.”

Blanche watched as Portia’s eyes widened, dark irises swirling with emotions she didn’t even try to decipher. Agnes stuck her free hand out, sweet smile curving her lips as she looked at the redhead.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, withdrawing her hand after a moment and curling it around Blanche’s waist in a not-quite-subtle movement that Blanche knew Portia took note of. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I can’t say the same,” Portia replied, her eyes returning to Blanche’s face and lingering in a way that made her skin flush in an almost uncomfortable way. “We’ll have to catch up this weekend, Blanche. I’ve missed you.”

Blanche didn’t return the sentiment as the redhead walked back to her husband, and Agnes’ fingers moved in soothing circles at her waist. With a heavy sigh, Blanche let her eyes slid shut, and there was a fleeting brush of lips to her temple that caused the corners of her mouth to curve upwards.

“I don’t like her,” Agnes said after a few moments, and Blanche barked out a laugh, grabbing her drink and taking another sip.

“She’s rather charming once you get to know her,” Blanche replied, a somewhat-wistful look passing over her face. “But that’s the past, and I’d rather not live in it anymore.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Agnes replied, something in her eyes that Blanche couldn’t read.

They clinked their glasses, and something about it felt like a fresh start.

_*

Agnes was already upstairs and Blanche had just finished talking to an old archeologist friend when the slim fingers curled around her wrist and tugged her into the small alcove.

“I thought I was never going to get you alone,” Portia said, nose mere inches from Blanche’s, eyes shining and breath sweet with champagne. “Your darling wife doesn’t let you far from her sight now, does she?”

“I don’t think that’s much of your concern anymore now, is it?” Blanche replied, trying to ignore the familiar warmth the feeling of Portia’s body pressed against her elicited. “You gave up the right to alone time with me when you walked out on me to go marry your husband.”

“Blanche,” Portia said with an eye roll, hands gripping her waist and breath touching her skin, all arrogance and attractiveness. “We have this weekend to forget about that.“

“Forget?” Blanche questioned with a touch of disgust in her voice, trying to pull back but hindered by the enclosed space they were in. “I have no desire to forget about anything you put me through four years ago. I’m happy now, happier than I’ve been in a long time, and it’s no thanks to you. Agnes is good to me, better than you ever were, and I won’t-“

Her words were cut off by the press of soft lips to hers, and she stood, frozen. For a moment, she softened and kissed back, because for a second it was like old times, and a part of her still missed Portia. But then she thought of Agnes, and everything she’d been through over the past four years, and she broke the kiss, pushing Portia away.

“We’re both married, and it’s not like it was four years ago,” Blanche said, slipping out of the alcove and shaking her head, looking over her shoulder. “It’s never going to be like it was four years ago. I let you go.”

Escaping up the stairs, she tried to control her heart, thundering in her chest as she headed for the room they were staying in. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, finding Agnes waiting anxiously at the edge of the bed, fingers knotted together. She shot up when the door opened, face crumbling in relief as she threw herself at Blanche, wrapping her in a tight hug and burying her face in her neck.

“I’m sorry I left you alone, I just-“

“Agnes- Agnes it’s fine, I can handle myself,” Blanche said, interrupting her fondly, hands smoothing down her back. This time there was no way to disguise the shiver, and she pulled back, raising an eyebrow at the brunette. Agnes’ flushed, tucking some hair behind her ear and looking at her toes. “Are you cold?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Agnes replied, and Blanche raised an eyebrow, curiosity spiked. She opened her mouth to ask what she meant when she was interrupted once more by a pair of soft lips, but this time, she didn’t want to pull away.

She never wanted to pull away.

But she had to know what, exactly, what happened, so she broke the kiss gently, pulling back to frame the brunette’s face, eyes searching hers.

“Agnes?” she asked, not exactly sure what she was asking, but Agnes seemed to understand what she meant anyway.

“I didn’t volunteer to be your wife for the weekend for my health, Blanche,” she murmured, hands tight on Blanche’s hips and a grin playing on her lips. “Figured it was the easiest way to get you to see me as more than your nephew’s ex-wife.”

“I see you as much more than that, Agnes,” Blanche replied softly, thumbs brushing her cheeks bones again. “Much, much more than that.”

With that she bent to press her lips to hers again; Agnes’ mouth tasted like red wine and chocolate cake, and the combination was intoxicating. Blanche pressed her back into the door, one hand cupping her cheek and the other grasping her hip, their bodies pressed tightly together as Agnes’ hands looped around her neck, tugging her even closer.

The hand on the brunette’s hip slid around her back, finding the zipper of the gorgeous red dress and beginning to pull it down, encouraged by Agnes’ moan of delight at the touch of Blanche’s fingers on her bare skin. She moaned into the kiss when she discovered Agnes’ lack of a bra, fingertips ghosting down the soft skin of the brunette’s back all the way down to her tailbone, the lace of her knickers brushing against Blanche’s knuckles.

“I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress all night,” Blanche murmured into Agnes’ skin, lips kissing a line down her throat and over her exposed collarbone, the now-unzipped dress gaping in the front and allowing the blonde a glimpse of cleavage.

“We should have ducked out sooner,” the brunette replied, turning her head to recapture Blanche’s mouth, nipping at her lower lip and sliding her hands over the silk of her dress. “Amy wouldn’t have even noticed.”

“Oh, she’d have noticed- she just wouldn’t have said anything until tomorrow morning, in front of everyone, very loudly,” Blanche replied, sliding the red dress down Agnes’ pale arms, allowing the fabric to pool at her feet, and her breath caught in her throat. “Agnes, you’re gorgeous.”

All that lovely, pale skin flushed at her words, and Agnes ducked her head, biting her lip. Blanche cupped her face in one hand, tilting her head back up so that she met her eyes, thumb brushing over her cheekbone gently. She leaned in to press her lips to Agnes’ again, nose brushing hers as the brunette sighed into the kiss.

“I’ve- never done this before,” Agnes confessed in a quick whisper, eyes darting up to Blanche’s, worry and arousal warring in her gaze. Blanche’s lips curled up in a smile, and she kissed the tip of Agnes’ nose.

“Well then you have a lot to learn, don’t you?”


	4. Only held you in my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long and it's not even that great oh my god I am the worst; only two more chapters after this! Story title from The One That Got Away by The Civil Wars.

By the time the back of Agnes’ knees hit the edge of the mattress, both women’s dresses were pools of fabric on the floor, and Blanche’s hands were sliding up the younger woman’s pale torso as they lowered themselves onto the duvet.

Blanche broke the kiss to trail her mouth over Agnes’ jaw, fingers stroking her sides gently; strong enough not to tickle, but soft enough to make her shiver.

“Do you want to move under the sheets?” Blanche asked, mouth near the brunette’s ear. “Or do you want to stay where you can see?”

“I want to see you,” Agnes replied, biting her lip as Blanche pulled back to meet her gaze, offering a shy smile as she slid her hands down her back. “And I want you to see me.”

A pleased flush settled over Blanche’s skin and Agnes trailed a finger over her collarbone, pressing a kiss to her jaw, tongue darting out to lick at her skin. Blanche gave a low hum, one hand slipping up her side, cupping a breast and sliding a thumb over her nipple, eliciting a soft moan from Agnes.

Blanche trailed her mouth up to Agnes’ ear, pressing a kiss to the skin just behind it. “There are other people in this house, dear. As much as I enjoy the noises you make, you may want to be quiet before someone hears us.”

Agnes let out a soft giggle, burying her face in Blanche’s neck, though the sound changed to a moan as Blanche let her fingers slip between her thighs, thumb slicking over her clit and trailing two fingers through the wetness gathered there. She sank her teeth into Blanche’s neck as the blonde slid two fingers inside of her, thumb still pressed firmly to her clit.

At her encouraging moan, she slid her fingers further inside Agnes, feeling the clench of her internal muscles, slick and hot around her hand. Blanche pressed a kiss to the back of Agnes’ neck, her free hand coming up to cup her breast. Agnes whimpered again, hand tightening in Blanche’s hair as she shifted her hips closer to her.

Blanche kissed her way down Agnes’ body, letting herself be distracted by Agnes’ pale, pert nipples, sucking on them and reveling in the low moans Agnes let out, before continuing on to her hips. She moved down to her knees, kissing the soft pale skin, dragging her teeth up her thigh.

Surging up, she enclosed Agnes’ clit with her mouth, and any words she might have been trying to say were lost in a desperate gasp of her name. Her hips bucked and Blanche gripped them in her hands, dragging her teeth over her clit as her tongue sweeping over her entrance.

Agnes was panting by the time she began to thrust her tongue inside her, hands pushing apart her thighs and opening her to Blanche further, nose pressed to her clit and fingers stroking the crease of her thighs with her thumbs lightly. She bucked, crying out Blanche’s name as she set to work, tongue and teeth and nose all working together as her hands continued to grip her thighs, keeping her pressed tightly against her mouth.

When her jaw began to ache and Agnes was so wet she couldn’t keep up, she pushed two fingers inside of her and watched her face as she clenched her eyes shut and bit her lip, cheeks pink as she rocked against her, desperation in her expression. Blanche murmured against the skin of her thigh as she watched Agnes draw closer to the edge, panting moans leaving her mouth as she chanted her name in a low voice, hips bucking and hands tangled in blonde curls.

When Blanche knew Agnes was almost there she sealed her mouth around her swollen clit once more, teeth dragging over it carefully just as he pressed his fingers up against the spot he knew would make her fall apart. She arched against her and came with a muffled scream of her name, undulating against her mouth as she panted, legs shaking against the older woman.

She fell back limp against the pillows, breathing heavily, chest hitching as she caught her breath. She tugged Blanche up and curled around her, burying her face in her neck and depositing breathless kisses to her skin, hands curling around her waist.

“I don’t think my legs are ever going to work again,” Agnes said lazily, nose brushing Blanche’s jaw as she kissed up her neck, nuzzling against her. “I’ve never had an orgasm like that before.”

“You’ve never had a Blanche Mottershead-induced orgasm before,” Blanche replied, and Agnes giggled, leaning up to kiss her mouth, getting distracted by the older woman’s tongue before she could answer.

“I am eternally grateful I shall never be without them again,” Agnes murmured, snuggling into her sleepily, trying to stifle a yawn, but unable to. Blanche smoothed back the dark curls from Agnes’ forehead, pressing a soft kiss there.

“Go to sleep darling,” she whispered, even as Agnes protested through another yawn. “We have time; get some rest.”

Agnes settled in against her with a contented, sleepy murmur, kissing her skin lazily as she drifted off to sleep. Blanche tugged the covers up around them, flicking off the bedside lamp and curling up around Agnes, relishing the feeling of warm skin pressed to hers.

She managed to murmur an 'I love you' in dark curls before she joined Agnes in dreamland.


End file.
